εὔνοια
by ThisIsLightful
Summary: Inside of minds so twisted by convoluted ideals, within the eyes of two so entwined by the colors within them and the strings of fate that bind them: there is hope. The beauty of thought shall banish away all putrid lies, unless the pollution being spilled is the thoughts themselves. There is something glorious, though, in the way they break.


**(A/N)** There is a chance that I might take this story down, as I do with many of my stories that I begin. I feel very self conscious over fanfiction because my writing style becomes a bit... hindered by the need for the writing to fit a character I did not design. I felt that there should be a warning for this. There will be strong language throughout the story- thank Karkat and Gamzee, and occasionally the others. If you notice any inconsistencies/mistakes, please point them out to me! The editor my computer allows me to use is something I have trouble seeing; small type font. **(A/N)**

 **Quick, Be The One In Danger**

You are, as aforementioned, the one in danger. Seriously, did anyone even bother to read that if they need it repeated again so soon?

You recently received a missive. If you were anyone else, this wouldn't have been much of an issue, nor such a surprise. You are not, however, anyone else. You are Karkat Vantas, wanted revolutionary extraordinaire. Your head on a pike would satisfy many. So, when you received a letter claiming that someone was willing to help your cause- your followers were weak and tired, exhausted by the challenges they have faced throughout their lives- you reluctantly decided that maybe this letter would lead you to a "revelation" and went to the designated area.

You somewhat regret doing so, for, towering above you, even while idly sitting down, his gander bulbs watched you with their hazy purple, half lidded curiosity. He bore his sharp fangs, yawning widely so as to show his gaping maw and chitinous windhole. This was a clusterfuck of _bad_ and you were unsure if only metaphorical shit would be hitting the thresher. You'd probably be hitting the thresher. He shifted, and you tensed, readying your Sickelkind Specibus; you doubt you stood a chance in the bugwinged world you found yourself in. You were lucky if you would be culled quickly, you knew.

"Relax, my invertebrother." The Subjuggulator leaned forward, his posture pole hunched over in a relax manner. "Ain't no motherfuckin' harm gonna come about the miracles you been whippin' up, my brother. You been mixing up miracles like some sort of wicked elixir of truth." He grinned at you.

You wanted to strangle him: his smile dopey, his weapon stashed away- you weren't even a blip on his electromagnetic field, you weren't dangerous. _And that's where he had you wrong. You would fight until the candy-red blood that your foolish thump-tortoise insisted on pumping could spill no more. {"I have dreams too… yes, I deserve to die." The Sermons reverberated in your head with renewed passion.}_

"Woah," the lanky troll stood from his rickety chair, strolling towards you, the very essence ofl calm. "Get your chill on, motherfucker. I ain't here to hurt nobody. Especially not _you_." He took a step forwards, and you flinched back.

"Then _what_ ," head lowered, nubby horns in front of you, muscles tensing, "-do you want?" You barely managed to grit out the sentence, your eyes a glaring red- you have long since forgone the contacts, the illusion of anonymity was shattered long ago.

He stepped forward, you did not try to back away this time. He hunched in on himself, spoke softer, in a seeming attempt at making you feel more comfortable around him. You held back a snort, this tactic was overused and you refused to let it work on you- not like last time, never again. "Brother, your miracles are a radiant thing, shining light on the dark where those who need it most hide. There's a glorious motherfuckin' sister who wants to help spread those motherfuckin' miracles 'cross this world, 'cross all worlds. She needs your help." he paused, seeming unsure. For a few moments, you could see how _young_ he was, how young you both were. Neither of you could be more than 10 sweeps old, yet here you were. You did not prod him, did not snap, not like you wanted to; you couldn't when his anguish bladder was spilling dismay fluid, streaks of purple trailing down his face. "I-I need you, brother. Many trolls have been culled, needlessly." He snarled, biting at open air, and you remembered what caste he was. What he was. "My friends- motherfuckin' miracles in and of themselves, my scarlet-brother - have been fighting with a fervor that only those blessed by the Messiahs can, but they are all gentle-like, my brother. All mercy and hope and it's makin' them lose an awful much. I don't wanna be in a world where my bros gotta be fightin' all the time and where they lose that beautiful fuckin' miracle that makes them shine so bright, and I don't want this world to be so motherfuckin' hurtful about so many, you dig?"

You crinkle your cartilaginous nub, reasserting your defensive stance, "As nice as that sounds," you drawl with all of the sarcasm that you can shove into your words, "I can't trust you. Not at the drop of a hat, fuckface. I'm not going anywhere with people I can't trust."

His face lit up, "That's just the motherfuckin' thing, brother! We all up and have someone you trust! They've been workin' with us a long while. If that ain't the Messiahs alignin' our fates to create a spectacular _motherfuckin' miracle_ then I ain't know what is. It's a totally bitchin' thing that the Messiahs have gone and done for us."

"Ah, yes, of course! How did I not fucking realize it? Of _course_ you have one of my non-captive friends! Why, I think that I'm beginning to put together the fucking puzzle pieces! Oh yes, I think that ALL of my fucking friends are idiots and they're all in this goddamned WHATEVER it is of yours! Like a fucking cheese critter I suppose that I'll just hop on my way with you, without an ounce of evidence to even support a single word that you're saying! I boggle at past Karkat's sheer STUPIDITY. What a fetid, festering pile of shit I must have seemed to the world! My flagrant ineptitude is to be laughed at. The most moronic fucker to exist? It is I. He is me. I am the fucker. I-"

You could have carried on for hours. Honestly, this was just a warm-up. You were too stunned by the fact that these people approached you- claiming to be aiming for the same thing, sending in a highblood to negotiate; it all smelled too _fishy_ to you- to start adding in extended metaphors, but you were gearing up to it.

You were, rudely, interrupted by a lispy, "KK?"

You cut off, turning around towards the voice of the friend you that had _fucking died:_ Sollux-gogdamned-Captor. "You…"

"I'th okay, KK." his voice was the softest. The softest. It was he.

"You.." you ran up to him; he opened his arms, preparing for a hug. You slugged him right in his fucking ignorance tunnel. You were angry. It was you. "YOU ASSHOLE!" You moved to hit him again, and he dodged.

He might have been the softest, but you were the most jagged. A broken piece of glass, a rusted over sword.

"What the fuck, KK?!" He looked surprised. He shouldn't be.

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!" He should be eternally fucking grateful that you weren't aiming for his shame globes. "You absolute IGNORAMUS. You FUCKWAD. You sit there, gawking like a grub seeing someone culled for the first time! Skitter away on your little ass fucking grub legs, Sollux! Let the small fly-creatures find their doom in your shout sphincter!"

"I-I wath gonna tell you, KK, I thwear! I jutht had to wait until-"

"HA-FUCKING-HA. JOKES ON YOU, KARKAT. YOU THOUGHT ANYONE GAVE ENOUGH OF A SHIT ABOUT YOU TO EVEN LET YOU KNOW THAT THEY WEREN'T FUCKING DEAD?! YOU ARE THE LAUGHINGSTOCK, KARKAT, IT IS YOU. EVERYONE IS LAUGHING SO FUCKING HARD THAT YOU WERE CONSIDERED FOR A LAUGHSASSIN JOB! YOUR FAILURE RATES WERE SO HIGH, BUT THEY MIGHT LAUGH AT HOW PATHETIC YOU ARE UNTIL THEIR RESENTMENT CHUTES ARE SPITTING THEIR RAINBOW BLOOD." Your self loathing turned back towards Sollux, abruptly, like a roller coaster falling onto the wrong set of tracks, "DO YOU WANT A FUCKING POINTY-ASS GLAM BADGE? WRIGGLERS LIKE SHINY THINGS, I HEARD. GOOD ON YOU. GOOD ON FUCKING YOU. GONNA TELL ME 'EVENTUALLY'. TELL ME, SOL, IF THIS MEETING HADN'T HAPPENED, WHEN WOULD 'EVENTUALLY' EVEN FUCKING BE? IT'S A PRETTY VAGUE WAY OF DETERMINING TIME, MY _friend."_ "friend"... It was said with such a betrayed tone that Sollux felt it battering at him, felt it more than a physical blow.

"KK. Thith meeting wath alwayth gonna happen." he sounded unsure, you pressed on that in a way that stung you more than it could ever sting him.

"How can you be so sure?" you kept your quiet rage. You were simmering fury. You were the crackle of an ember that would coalesce into a fire that consumed cities, falsities, betrayals, faster and stronger than a tsunami. You were a swirling of _crimson_ and ambiguous _grey_ \- you would fester like an infection, slowly corrupt until suddenly you were the victor, until no longer could they even stumble out of bed; blind and fever ridden and begging for death. Yes, you would simmer. You calmed, forced yourself back into neutral. Betrayal was all too common when looking for people trustworthy enough to quiet their words like the sweetest, palest of moirails could quiet the tumultuous upset that would tear apart their partner, that would tear apart their cause. He moved to speak again, but you were suddenly too exhausted to deal with his shit excuses. Always leaving you behind. Just like everyone else. Even when you laid your life down for them; you laid your secrets bare and still they make a mockery of it. Of you. "Shut your protein shoute, you shithive maggot fuckface. You can go suck on your hoofbeastmanure, for all I care."

You turn towards the Subjuggulator: he looks apprehensive and sad, like he was hoping this would be a happy reunion. He probably thought it was. Until it wasn't. A silent corner of you wishes that it was, but you beat it into submission. You have no room for those who will turn on you, who will not use even their words for you.

"Sorry for goin' and all gettin' you riled up there, brother. Wasn't none of my intention to do you any harm. I told you that, and still I-" he gnashed his teeth, and you only just noticed that his claws were digging into his arms, that he was practically emaciated, that only his own purple blood stained his clothes, that he looked tired and afraid. A pang of pity shot through you, and you elected to inspect that when you had the emotional capacity to flail about like the idiotic, screw up of a wriggler you really are. Sollux broods in the corner of the room, watching you with concerned eyes.

"I get that." your voice was worn from yelling. "I'll go with you, but I make no promises." The fire in you hissed orange- sadness and weariness and falling down a spiral of color. {" _I realize, I am different from you… My blood burns brightly for all to see. It is a flame of a revolution that you cannot ever hope to quell… infected by hate and corruption.." the words ring within you, they are singing with the music your blades make as they cut through air and skin alike.}_

The purple-blood smiles, "That's all anybody has the right to ask from you, brother." He extended a hand, looking in your eyes with a kindness that makes you want to run away- you're afraid you'll break it. Break it like you did Crabdad. "Karbro, you motherfuckin' miraculous miracle, I'm all up and bein' known as Gamzee."

"Gamzee." the name tastes like mint, like a refreshing drink after trudging through the desert's harsh sun, and it dances upon your tongue. "It's nice to meet you, you fucking miraculous disaster." You clasp his prong, and the two of you give vicious yet not unkind grins at one another. This is a defining moment, and preciously you cradle it in your hand. Each new person is a different shade, a new word with unknown definitions, and they shall warp your own in some way. You wonder if this purple will drown out your red. You wonder if, by some _miracle,_ the colors will blend into a hue never before seen, if the colors will bleed into each other until they are wrapped so protectively around the other that they fuse and Become one.

You do not look at the psiioniic in the corner of the room, but instead watch the disaster of a purple-blooded troll with the closest approximation to trust you can bring yourself to give. You wonder if he will still think you're a miracle when he realizes how much of a failure you are.


End file.
